TOOWOOMBA.
Toowoomba being the junction of the Western Line and the chief town on
the Darling Downs, the station was a larger one than ordinary. As the
express steamed in all was life and bustle, for the down-train had
arrived at the same time on the opposite side. Wyck having only a rug to
look after, and knowing the run of the place, jumped out directly the
train stopped and, calling a cab, drove to the Royal Hotel. Arriving
there, he looked at the rack, and saw two telegrams addressed to
himself, which he opened eagerly.
"By Jove, they're here!" he said to himself, and to the barman he cried,
"Brandy!"
"You'll take the same room, sir," said the barman, handing him the
drink, and wondering at his hurried manner.
"Say, George, if anyone calls for me I am not in," said he, laying
half-a-crown in close proximity to George's hand.
"I'm fly, governor," said that worthy, pocketing the half-crown.
Wyck hurried upstairs to his room. Locking the door he sat down on the
bed to think matters over. His limbs were trembling with nervous
apprehension. Every step that passed his door made him start, and
several times he had recourse to his flask to calm himself. The liquor
had the desired effect, and lighting a cigar, he smoked on in silence.
The smoke grew less, the cigar went out, but still he was gazing into
space. A step passing his door woke him from his reverie. He took
another long pull at his brandy-flask and shaking himself together
walked to the looking-glass, and addressed his own image thus:
"Now, Wyck, my boy, you'll have to get out of this, and there is only
one way of doing it, and that is to disguise yourself. Your moustache
must come off first," and he gave that handsome appendage an
affectionate farewell twist. "We must part, so here goes," and opening
his dressing-case he set to work, and five minutes later was a
clean-shaven man. Then he began to make elaborate preparations for his
character in the bush by ripping his trousers and blackening them here
and there. After a considerable amount of destruction had been done he
considered his disguise satisfactory, and prepared for bed. To guard
against over-sleeping himself he tied a string to the boots outside his
door, and fixed the other end round his wrist. Then, taking a final sip
from his flask, he jumped into bed and was soon fast asleep. He seemed
scarcely to have dropped off before he was dreaming that Morris had him
by the wrist and was sitting on his chest.
"Mercy!" he gurgled, at the same time rising in bed and wrenching his
arm free, a process which brought forth the expression of a loud oath
from outside the door.
"What's your game?" called out the owner of the voice, and Wyck woke
fully and remembered. Springing out of bed he called the boots into his
room.
"What's your game, young fellow?" repeated that worthy.
"I wanted you to wake me. Come, have a nip."
"Don't mind if I do, boss."
"What's your name?"
"Bill Adams. Here's luck, boss."
"Say, Bill, can you hold your tongue?"
"All depends."
"Here's a sovereign," said Wyck, handing him one.
"I can hold it as tight as wax, boss."
"Then listen. I got into a bit of a mess over a girl, and there are some
chaps after me. They came by the express last night, and if I'm here
they'll find me."
"Then you'd better get out of here."
"That's just what I want to do. How is it to be done? See I have shaved
my moustache and altered my clothes."
"What did yer cut them for?"
"I want to be a tramp."
"Let me fix yer up. Just yer stay here," said Bill, disappearing to
return a few minutes later with a swag, which he laid on the floor and
opened.
"Now then, just you put on these breeches, shirt and boots."
Five minutes later Wyck did not recognise himself, as he looked in the
glass.
"Now then, boss, if you're smart, there's a goods train leaves for the
West at six, you can catch that."
"Will you take charge of these things?" asked Wyck, strapping up his
portmanteau, flurried with the success of his scheme.
"Yes, I'll watch 'em for you."
"Which way do I go?"
"This way," said Bill, leading him to a back entrance, opening on a lane
leading to Ruthven Street.
"Here's another for you, Bill, and if you look after my things I'll give
you a couple more when I come back," said Wyck, handing him another
sovereign.
"Right you are, boss!" and as he closed the door upon him, a grin spread
over his face, and he said to himself:
"Two yellow boys for old Joe's swag, eh? Wonder what old Joe'll say when
he comes to look for 'em?"
Wyck reached the station safely, and asking how far the train went, was
told "Roma."
"First, Rome," said he to the porter, without thinking.
"Roma, you mean, boss. Besides there ain't no first class on a goods
train," said the porter, with a grin.
"You know what I mean," replied Wyck, annoyed.
"All right, here you are, boss," he answered, handing him a ticket, and
noting his white hands and the chink of gold in his pocket.
"Hullo, mate! how far are you going?" asked a genuine tramp, as he
joined him in the van.
"I beg your pardon," said Wyck, forgetting his character and disgusted
with the fellow's familiarity.
"Hoity toity! here's a joke," said the old tramp, much to the porter's
amusement, as the train moved slowly off, bearing Wyck to the bush.
The boys were not long in following Wyck out of their train, but as they
thought he might get in at Toowoomba they kept a close watch on all
passengers travelling North and South. Reg tipped the conductors of both
boudoir cars, in order to look through them, and when both trains
started again, they felt satisfied he must be still in Toowoomba, unless
he had left previous to their arrival. Off they went to the nearest
hotel, and engaged a double-bedded room, in which they locked
themselves.
"What's the programme now, Hal?" said Reg.
"If he's here we must nab him. When does the first train start
to-morrow?"
"The guide says, 10.30 South, and 1.50 West."
"We'd better get up early and go round the town. You can put on your rig
and appear as a stranger looking round, while I'll put on my bush rig
and go amongst the swaggies and loafers in the bars. They generally have
their eyes open and my idea is that our man will have got hold of one of
them for information," said Hal, pulling out his bush togs.
"What shall I do, then?"
"Just knock around and keep your eyes open. He may drive away. Of course
he may have got away by now, but it's our only chance."
The next morning by half-past six both had left their room to commence
their search. Hal did not need any coaching in the manners or ways of a
bushman. He had seen too many of that fraternity during his travels.
With a slouch hat, a grisly beard, a crimson shirt, a clean pair of
moles with straps fastened below the knees, and a rough pair of boots,
he looked the typical bushman in search of work. His hands were stained
and looked sunburnt and dirty. He walked with a slow, long stride, first
into one public-house, then another, calling invariably for a quid of
tobacco in preference to liquor. He struck into conversation with
several of his own kidney, and interviewed boots and barmen, without
finding out anything of service to him, but still he kept on patiently
until he came to the "Royal," where he found an old man sweeping the
bar.
"Good-day, boss," said the sweeper.
"Good-day. Have a drink?"
"Don't mind if I do have a pint," said he, readily.
"I'll have rum," said Hal.
After a little desultory conversation and the drinks had disappeared the
sweeper, whom the barman addressed as Bill, returned the compliment, and
put down a sovereign in payment.
"Hallo, Bill, where did you make this?" called out the barman,
considerably astonished to find Bill with a sovereign in his
possession.
"Never you mind. Give us a drink and have one yourself," he answered.
The drinks were served and Bill received his change, but still the
barman seemed curious.
"Where did you get it, Bill?" he asked again, coming from behind the
bar, which gave Hal an opportunity of getting rid of his rum.
"Never mind," said Bill, huffily. "Can't a fellow have a sovereign
without you troubling yourself?"
Hal now became decidedly interested, and ordered another round of
drinks, this time including the barman. The barman returned the
compliment, and Bill, having four pints of beer inside him, began to
talk volubly on his strong point--thoroughbreds. Still the barman seemed
to think he ought to have a share of that sovereign, and again plied
Bill with questions.
"Tell us, Bill. Did you prig it?"
"Prig it! You go to the devil. Come on, mate, let's have another drink,"
and Bill began to show signs of intoxication.
"Rather, Bill," answered Hal, pretending to be similarly affected. So
far, he had succeeded in throwing his liquor down a hole in the floor.
The landlord now appeared on the scene and began to rate Bill for
neglecting his work.
"I ain't a-going to chop your wood, I ain't; eh, mate? We ain't a-going
to chop wood."
"No, that we ain't," said Hal, with a lurch.
The barman stopped the retort rising to the landlord's lips by
whispering, "plenty of stuff," in his ear. Thereupon the latter asked
where Mr. Wyckliffe had gone.
"Who?" said Bill. "He's No. 5, ain't he?"
"Yes."
"Well, he give me two bob, and went away early."
"Where did he go to, Bill?" asked the barman.
"Don't know, and don't care. Give us another drink." After which he
staggered away, followed by Hal, to the back, in the direction of the
stables.
"I'm going to sleep," he said, entering a small house attached to the
coach-house, where a lot of bags were strewn about.
Hal staggered after him, and noticed a portmanteau and a rug in the
corner. Bill tottered to a rude bunk, on which he fell, and was soon
fast asleep and snoring loudly.
Hal hearing him mutter, leant over him and managed to make out the
following:
"Get up--six o'clock train West--Go to 'ell--two yellow boys," from
which he drew his own deductions. Then he proceeded to examine the
portmanteau, which he found unlocked. He could hardly restrain his joy
when he found lying underneath the things Wyck's famous ebony stick. It
was beautifully mounted and polished and its numerous notches were
carefully cut. The temptation was too great to resist and Hal calmly
appropriated it, slipping it down the leg of his trousers, then he
staggered out of the yard down a lane towards the creek. When he was
well out of sight he carefully pulled off his old coat, and took from
the pocket a silk coat and pair of overalls. These were quickly donned,
the wig and beard disappeared, and he straightened himself out and
walked back through the yard into the street, looking like an ordinary
tradesman.
Reg was waiting for him when he got back.
"He left by this morning's train for West," said Hal.
"I thought so. I enquired at the station, and they told me a goods train
ran twice a week at that hour, and one had gone this morning, but the
man who was on duty then had gone home."
"What's the next train, Reg?"
"1.50."
"Well, we'll go by that. But, come here, I have something to show you,"
said Hal, leading the way to their room, and producing the stick.
"My God! the stick," cried Reg, and taking it in his hands, looked as if
he could have smashed it to a thousand pieces.
Hal left him, thinking it was better for him to be alone with the bitter
reflections the sight of the stick had caused.
When the girls left the train they did not go to a hotel, but to a
boarding-house near the station. Several rough-looking men were
loitering about the door and on the step sat a dirty, fat woman.
"Good-evening, missus. Got any beds?" said Hil.
"Yes, come in, gentlemen. What price do you want. I've got 'em from
sixpence to eighteen-pence."
"Let's see the eighteenpennys, then."
"This way," said she, leading them along a long passage. "Here you are,
a fine double-bed fit for a hemperor," and she flung open a door on
which "_Privit_" was marked.
"Tell you what I'll do. Half-a-crown for the two of yer," said she.
"All right, missus," said Hil, laying down her luggage.
"No, it ain't all right. Not that I doubts you, but you'll have to sugar
up afore you touches it."
"Here you are then," answered Hil, handing her the money.
"Want anything to heat!"
"No, thank you. Good-night."
"Suppose you are new chums, ain't you?"
"Yes. Good-night, we're going to bed."
"Well, good-night!" she answered, disappearing reluctantly.
"What a relief," said May, as she took off her large boots and divested
herself of her male attire.
"How do you like being a man?"
"Oh, it would be all right when you got used to it, I suppose, but I
must say it is a little awkward at first. I'm chafed all over."
"I'm out of practice, too, but on the whole I consider we did very
well. I don't see that we can do much good by getting up early
to-morrow. The first train does not leave before half-past eleven."
"I think eight o'clock time enough," said May, who was completely tired
out, although she would not give in.
"Well, we'll have a well-earned rest," said Hil, turning in alongside
her friend.
"Do you gentlemen want breakfast?" said a voice at the door, the next
morning.
"What's the time?"
"Past eight o'clock."
"All right. We'll be out in a few minutes."
When they appeared breakfast was in full swing, and a large proportion
of the men round the table wore the railway uniform. As they entered,
Hil heard one of them say:
"He was the greatest card I ever saw in all my life."
"Who's that, Joe?" asked another.
"Why that cove as went by the six goods. He was wearing togs that did
not belong to him, and if I don't mistake he had old Bill Adams's hat
on."
"What did he do, Joe?"
"Do," said Joe, laughing. "He comes to the office in a fluster and says:
'First, Rome.' I says: 'There ain't no first Rome, Roma you mean.' 'You
know what I want,' says he, and when he took his change I noticed his
hands was snowy white: he had a ring on and I could hear the gold
chinking in his pocket."
"What's his name?" asked the landlady.
"I don't know, but I'm going up to the 'Royal' to enquire about Bill's
hat."
The girls had listened greedily to all this, and after breakfast they
disguised themselves further by changing their wigs, in case they should
meet the boys, and went on to the "Royal" to hear the name of the
passenger to Roma.
"We'll follow by the 1.50," said Hil, when her enquiries were answered.